High School Farewell
by Elliot Pole
Summary: It is Spring 2007, and Lizzie McGuire and her class are getting ready to graduate from high school.  Larry Tudgman has killed himself, and Lizzie discovers a letter explaining why.  He was in love with her.
1. The Akora of Larry Tudgman

**High School Farewell**

Gordo was now a senior in high school, and he had just received a letter from Columbia University. He was sitting around a table at Lizzie's house. Amy Barklett was there as well.

"Open it!" Lizzie said excitedly. She knew Columbia couldn't possibly reject Gordo.

On her encouragement, Gordo at last decided to do so. He read it with a grim face. "I didn't get in," he said at last.

"Let me see," Lizzie said, frowning, as she reached for the letter. "No! There must be some mistake."

Amy requested to read it as well. Finally, both girls had confirmed that Gordo was not accepted to Columbia.

"They are just a bunch of snobs, Gordo. Don't let this bring you down."

"Lizzie, this is a major disappointment. I've always dreamed of Columbia—the intellectual atmosphere, the challenging coursework, and the prestige from saying you are a Columbian graduate. Now what shall I do?"

"Oh, has Gordo had a _de casibus _moment?" fourteen-year-old Matt asked, as he walked into the room and noted Gordo's downcast expression. Matt had become very studious when he turned twelve, to the point where it began to vex Lizzie. He was always eager to show off his knowledge.

"Go away, _brother."_

"Show some respect, _sister."_ But he left without complaint.

Amy was a slim brunette, with tiny curls in her hair. She was Lizzie's best friend, now that Miranda had moved to Spain to live with relatives. That happened in their sophomore year. "So, Gordo, what is your back-up plan?" she wondered.

"Amy, I'm afraid that I don't have a back-up plan."

"But surely you've got to go to college somewhere! You're the valedictorian of our class! How would it look if you just stayed home and moped all day?"

"Columbia was my only option. It's already April, and it's too late to apply to any worthwhile colleges."

"You could go to a subpar college for a year, and then transfer to a better one in 2008," Lizzie suggested.

"I'll think about it."

Things had changed a lot since middle school. Kate Sanders was no longer a cheerleader; she was on the drama team, and Mr. Hancock said that she was destined to become the next Anne Hathaway.

Most of the other girls moved away, and new ones came in. Gloria Hopkins, a Hispanic, was Gordo's greatest rival for valedictorian. She was so involved with her work that nobody ever heard her speak a syllable that was not related to school. Gloria hated Gordo for being the number one student, and it was rumored that she had made a voodoo representation of him, which she constantly stuck pins in.

Larry Tudgman had committed suicide in November. He had jumped out of a two-story window, with Stephenie Meyer's _Twilight _in hand. He desired for the book to be buried with him.

Nobody understood why Larry had killed himself. He never gave any explanation, nor any signs. He just did it.

Few people cried. He was a nerd who got on everybody's nerves, and they would've felt the same had Steve Urkel died. Although Ms. Honey, the biology teacher, had had a seizure that was attributed to "severe psychological loss," immediately following Larry's death.

Ethan was still as much of a brain-dead hottie as ever. His steady girlfriend, Nichole Washington, was blond and lived up to the reputation of her hair color. She was at least smarter than Ethan, but that's not saying much.

Then there was another pest, much worse than Larry. Samuel Perton. He professed to be in love with Amy, and brought her roses every Monday, which she was too modest to refuse. However, she always threw them in the garbage can first chance she got.

Some people wished that Samuel had killed himself instead of Larry. But that, unfortunately, was never going to happen. Samuel was too much in love with life, and he seriously believed Amy had a tiny interest in him, because of all the roses she had accepted.

On the thirtieth of April, Samuel brought Amy another bouquet of flowers. "Will you go to the prom with me?" he asked her.

Amy was tongue-tied. She didn't want to hurt Samuel's feelings, but she also didn't wish to accept. Lizzie nudged her, and she finally got the courage to say a weak but effective, "No."

"But—all the roses I've given you! I thought you had an interest in me!"

"She never did," Lizzie supplied, when Amy once again found herself speechless. "She always throws away your precious gifts, but she never had the heart to tell you."

"What do you know? Heart-Breaker Lizzie is informing me that I have girlfriend problems."

"What did you call me?" Lizzie demanded.

"Heart-Breaker. First, you rejected Gordo, then you dumped Danny Hemlich, then you broke it off with Ken Taper. I also heard that Larry killed himself because of you!"

This last rumor was news to Lizzie. It was true that Larry had asked for a private conversation the day before his death. He said to meet him by a certain tree, but she had stood him up. She didn't see any significance in it. By the time he had died, she had forgotten completely about it, but now it soared in front of her eyes like a cormorant above the sea.

"Don't listen to him," Amy advised later that day, when Samuel wasn't around. "He's just bitter because I turned him down."

"He may be right. What if _I'm _the reason for his suicide?" Lizzie moaned.

"That's a ridiculous notion, and you must banish it from your head. His death was inevitable; he felt neglected and just couldn't take life anymore. Nobody was responsible, least of all you."

"But Amy, I stood him up! Samuel's right. I am a Heart Breaker. What have I done?"

"You don't know that he had anything serious to say; it might've just been rubbish."

"Maybe. But, then again, perhaps he left a clue at the place we were supposed to meet. Tomorrow I'm going to see."

Lizzie knew that it was highly improbable that anything of Larry's could still be around the sycamore tree six months later. However, she went to that spot in the hopes of finding something.

There were squirrels playing in the boughs of the tree, and one fell flat on the ground. Lizzie observed the ground assiduously, looking for any trace Larry might have left behind.

There was a crevice in the ground, and something white was sticking out of it. Lizzie picked it up for examination. It was a letter folded into eight squares.

Unfolding it, Lizzie discovered that it was addressed to her. She pocketed the missive, believing it to be dangerous to read it out in the open air. Then she went home.

Safe in her room, with the door fastened as much as possible, Lizzie began to read the letter.

Dearest Lizzie, November 8, 2006 

_By the time you discover this letter, I will be long dead. I hope you will find it. You stood me up, and probably have forgotten all about our rendezvous by the sycamore tree._

_You were the only one who could have prevented me from killing myself. If you had just shown up, I would've been able to tell you something very significant. You were my akora. This is a tradition I invented for an alien race in a science fiction novel I was writing._

_The akora is chosen on a male's nineteenth birthday. I never told anybody this, but I was born in 1987. Therefore, I was nineteen long before my death. Anyhow, the akora is a girl that the man loves. He swears that he will never marry anyone but her, whether she likes him or not. I had chosen you for this honor. _

_Remember in eighth grade when we went to the science museum and spent a day together? Over the course of the next three years, I couldn't get you out of my mind. I tried, Lizzie, seriously I tried. Even as I watched you dump boy after boy, I still yearned for your love. It is just one of those inexplicable mysteries of life._

_Lizzie, I promise that I had no intention of threatening you, had you kept our appointment. I did not want your pity. I just wanted you to be aware of the torment I have gone through for you! But don't misunderstand me: it was worth every moment._

_Perhaps I have committed suicide to make you feel pain. If so, I'm very selfish. More than likely, you shed not a tear. I was never important to you._

_Sometimes I think I'm maudlin and sentimental. I've placed _Lizzie McGuire _on a high pedestal, and she exists merely to crush my heart! There is no way I can avoid killing myself; it is inevitable. Written in stone._

_Lizzie, I have one request of you. If you understand a trifle of what I've been telling you, go to my house and tell my mother that you are my akora. She has a present to give you, if she believes._

_Your lover,_

Larry Tudgman 

This letter wracked Lizzie's nerves, and she went to show it to her mother.

Mrs. McGuire read it with pursed lips. It was the most disturbing letter she had ever read, and it seemed to have an aura of darkness about it.

"Lizzie, I want you to think for a moment. Have you ever given Larry the impression that you liked him romantically?"

"No."

"I said, think! Don't just blurt out an answer."

Lizzie pretended to ruminate over this matter. Yet she knew she had never ever shown Larry an inclination to spend time with him.

After she had repeated her no, Mrs. McGuire spoke. "This Larry was very passionate, to write a letter like this. Either that, or it's a forgery. Lizzie, is there anybody at your school who might hold a grudge against you?"

"Well, there's Danny, and Ken, my ex-boyfriends. And also Samuel."

"Why would Samuel be out to deceive you?"

"Oh, he's in love with Amy, and she has spurned him, with my encouragement. He probably blames me for making her prejudiced against him."

"Well, there's one way to find out whether this was a real letter or not. Go and see Mrs. Tudgman, show her the missive, and ask her if she believes the handwriting to be Larry's. They say that no one knows your calligraphy more than your mother."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Mom!" Lizzie hugged her, which she had rarely done of her own volition.

On Cinco de Mayo, Lizzie went to the Tudgman's house. It had a tiny portico that was reminiscent of the bathhouses in ancient Rome. She rang the doorbell.

A portly woman with short hair answered. She was wearing a purple blouse and a shark tooth's necklace, and she had just finished her ablutions.

"Yes?"

"Are you Larry's mother?"

The woman eyed Lizzie suspiciously. "I'm his aunt. Or was, before he committed suicide."

"Is his mother home?"

"Aryna? Yes, she's here. I'll run and get her." The woman shut the door in Lizzie's face.

This was going to be more trouble than she had thought. Just when she was about ready to give up, the door opened again, by a slim hand. Larry's mother had a red face, with splotches all over it, as if she had been gardening. She was emaciated and appeared to not have had a decent meal in months.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"Lizzie McGuire, ma'am."

"Now, where have I heard that name before? Oh, yes, Larry used to speak ceaselessly of you! How much of a better student you were. How people liked you better. How he was unworthy of you. He would highlight your pictures in the yearbook, and affix your name to his surname. Lizzie Tudgman! I often told him that that was the most beautiful name in the world."

"There's no mistake about it, then. He must've written the letter," Lizzie said, more to herself than to Mrs. Tudgman.

"What's that? Did you say something about a letter?"

"Well, Larry wrote it just before his death, but I did not discover it until very recently. I had come to seek your opinion on whether it really is his or not."

Mrs. Tudgman stared at Lizzie, as if she had answered her prayers. "Oh, come in, come in!" the woman said, opening the door wide and standing aside. "To think, a letter from Larry! This I got to see."

She led Lizzie to the dining room, and told her to have a seat. Going to the kitchen, she returned with some tea.

"Now, where is this letter?"

"Right here," Lizzie said, pulling it out of her pocket.

Mrs. Tudgman looked greedy as she grabbed the missive from Lizzie's hands. Her first contact with Larry in half a year! And probably the last she would ever receive.

As her eyes progressed further and further along the note, she began to frown. At last, when she read the final paragraph, she was livid.

Lizzie was sipping her cup of tea, and Mrs. Tudgman knocked it out of her hands. "How dare you bring a mother false hopes?" she yelled in indignation. "Larry never wrote this: it's not his handwriting. To think that you could be so malicious, you witch, you hoyden of the first water! Out, out of my house, with all your trickery and deceit! Shoo!"

The teenage girl ran away from the madwoman, out the door, past the portico. She ran all the way home, without once pausing to catch her breath.

When she was in her room again, she sat on her bed and cried. She was supposed to go meet Amy at the mall, but her spirits were dampened. How could Mrs. Tudgman attack her so? Calling her a witch, and all that. All she had wanted to do was find out whether Larry was the author of that letter or not, and his mother had vilified her! Well, at least she had the answer.

Later that night, when she got in bed, she realized that someone was out to hoodwink her into making a fool of herself. That someone was most likely Samuel Perton.


	2. The Rose

**High School Farewell**

**Chapter Two**

For some unknown reason, Ken Taper showed up on Lizzie's doorstep at precisely 12:01 on Sunday. He had a buzz-cut, and wore a green shirt with yellow fire at the bottom.

Matt answered the door. "Here to have your heart sundered again?" he asked.

"Just get Lizzie, _fish."_

"Ooh, the tapeworm does bite." Matt laughed at his own joke. "That's a slur on your surname, in case you're too dense to figure it out."

"Will you do as I ask, or do I have to call the cops on you?"

"Still as much a paper tiger as ever you were, Ken. But Lizzie's not taking callers right now; she's incapacitated."

"If you don't cease these intellectual responses…"

"You'll send the FBI to my address for breaking the law. I know. But my sister's in a lachrymose state; not fit to be seen. She has been sent an unnerving letter, and it is causing a severe hormonal breakdown."

Matt then went inside, though instead of Lizzie, the next person to emerge from the bowels of the house was Mr. McGuire.

"Ex-girlfriend trouble?" the latter asked.

"Worse. Current girlfriend trouble. Minxy won't go to the prom, and I need a date."

"Enough to scare someone you used to care about out of her wits?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. M."

Lizzie's father did not believe that Samuel Perton should be her only suspect. He was going to attempt to find out who played this wanton trick, and someone was going to be punished for it, hopefully the perpetrator.

"Tell me, son. Do you know what an akora is?"

"Akora, sir?"

"Spelled A-K-O-R-A. I don't know how you pronounce it."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Ken said. Mr. McGuire watched the boy's face for recognition, and possible traces of lying. He was forced to admit that Ken really didn't have any idea about it.

"Well, Lizzie's stressed out, as I'm sure Matt informed you."

"Yes, I understand that, but what I need to say to her is very important."

"You'll have to wait till tomorrow then, at school. That is, if she can make it." He sounded worried.

"Surely an afternoon with her old boyfriend Kenny will cheer her up," the teenager suggested.

"She dumped you, if I recall. I don't think she'd be particularly happy to see you."

At that moment, there was a shriek from somewhere indoors. A moment later, Lizzie dashed downstairs, and ran to greet Ken. She hugged him, as if he were a long lost friend. Something was very awkward about her; she was never this sentimental.

"Ken, I'm sorry, please forgive me!" Lizzie said. "If there's anything I can do to make up for breaking up with you, just ask."

"You could go with me to the prom," Ken replied, stating his object in coming there.

Lizzie looked at him, and frowned. Ken caught it, and hung his head. Mr. McGuire left the room; he had seen enough of this drama.

"It's not that I'm saying no, but what about Minxy? I thought you were going with her."

Ken made absolute sure Lizzie's father was nowhere in sight. "Well, I was, but we broke it off this morning."

"We?"

"Well, I broke up with her, because I thought I'd take a risk and see if you were game," Ken embellished.

"Why do you always say what I like to hear? Now, if I can just figure out this mystery regarding the akora, I'll be just fine."

Ken blushed, but Lizzie didn't notice. "So is that a yes?"

"No," Lizzie said. She flung her hair back, and then kissed him. "That's a yes," she said, when she had finished.

They said their adieus. Ken went home in his red 2006 Ford Triumph, and Lizzie shut the door behind her.

"No one will call me Heart-Breaker Lizzie ever again," she said to herself, in a voice above a whisper.

Routine reigned in the halls on Monday. The school year was near its end, yet nothing seemed different. The class of 2007 went on with their old habits, Samuel Perton chief among the traditionalists.

Despite Amy's clear rejection, he still brought her a bouquet of roses, only this time they were colored white, when they were usually red. That was out of his normal actions; why give a white rose to a girl one had so recently pretended to care for? Someone had once told Lizzie that when someone gives you a white rose, they want you to die. So she was naturally protective of her friend, when Sam tried to give her the gift.

"Will you ever stop pestering Amy?" Lizzie asked.

"Will you ever stop breaking hearts, akora?"

At the last word, Lizzie gave a start. "What did you say?"

"Akora. Plain as day. Sheesh."

"I knew it! You wrote that letter, Samuel Perton, and tried to pretend that Larry did it!"

"Hold it. Don't make any false accusations, Lizzie. You really don't want to do that," Sam said.

"Do you deny having written it, when you clearly understand the meaning and use of the word akora?"

"I'm not saying I wrote it and I'm not saying I didn't."

"You're an agnostic, aren't you? You tend to evade the question," Lizzie said, contemptuously.

"Look, Lizzie, the only thing I'll admit to is that I've read it. Yes, I know what an akora is. Whoop-de-whoop. That doesn't mean I'm the author of that letter." He turned to Amy. "Will you accept the roses or not?"

"Yes, I'll take them," she said, meekly. Lizzie stared open-mouthed at her friend, not believing that Amy would accept a present from a man that had hurt Lizzie emotionally.

"Score one for Samuel!" his only friend, Jack Knussel, said when he went to the back of the room.

For the first time since Samuel had started giving Amy flowers, she did not throw them away. She carried them with her to Lizzie's house, and put them in a vase. "They are gorgeous, aren't they?"

"Amy, how could you have accepted them?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Lizzie was shocked for the second time that day. "We're best friends, Amy. How could I not understand something in your life?"

"Even the closest brothers have their secrets. The sands have shifted many times since last I felt like this. Strange tidings are in store."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lizzie demanded. She rarely used that tone of voice, and never against a friend, but her stress levels had peaked.

"It doesn't matter now. But, Lizzie, if Sam is the author of the letter, you realize that you're in a worst position than you were before?"

"How so?"

"Because you are his akora. He will only marry you, and no one else. Which means that he's not interested in me at all, and never was. At least not in a perverted way."

"That's ridiculous! Sam wouldn't want to marry me! He's never shown any interest in me whatsoever, and you know how he is. It's impossible for him to not let the world know he's in love with a girl, and to paint her name in the sky."

"Lizzie, think about it. He feigns an interest in me, your best friend, so that he can be near you once a week. He gives me flowers, really wishing to give them to you. But because you've broken so many hearts, he can't take it if you trample on his as well. So he's been faking a love for me."

It was starting to make sense in Lizzie's mind, as she mulled over it for a few minutes. "I don't want to believe it," she said at last, "but your evidence sounds veritable. However, I don't feel any better off, knowing that. Sam is a creep! And to think that he could sink to these underhanded tactics, that don't befit a cockroach. I need more time to ponder about this. But what baffles me is that, knowing this, you went ahead and accepted the roses anyway, and didn't throw them away like you usually do."

"I'm afraid you'll get mad if I tell you why."

"Amy, you needn't fear! We're best friends, and nothing you can say will change that."

The doorbell rang, and Matt was heard to shout, "I'll get it!" in the living room.

Amy looked into Lizzie's eyes, and believed she could trust her to keep her word. "Okay, here it goes. I accepted them, because realizing that Sam's fire burns for another girl, I am in no danger."

Lizzie was about to make a retort, which would've made her renege on her promise, when Gordo barged in.

"Lizzie, Amy, I'm in a quandary, and I need your help!"

Putting the imminent quarrel out of her mind, Lizzie addressed her friend. "What is it, Gordo?"

"I don't have any clue what to say for my valedictorian speech!"

"But, haven't you been working on it for six months?" Amy asked, astonished.

"Well, yes I have, but I read over my old material, and realized that it's all lies! Every last word of it. That was before Columbia rejected me, and now I have learned a gospel truth: life is meaningless."

"How can you say that, Gordo?" Lizzie said, in apparent shock. "You, who have everything going for you, with your dream to become a screenwriter, how can you degrade life in such a manner?"

"But it's true, Lizzie. Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. I had hoped that Shakespeare was wrong, but apparently he isn't. First, I lost my girl, then I lost my college. What's next? Will David Gordon lose his hair? What then? There may be an opening in a monastery somewhere; I heard that in Florence they are looking for some new monks. Maybe I should go there…" Gordo said all this very fast.

"Wait, Gordo, please stop! Calm down!" Lizzie commanded. His hands were fidgeting. "What do you mean you lost your girl? You're not still in love with me, are you? It's been four years since that kiss, and I'd thought you'd have gotten over me by now."

"Don't flatter yourself, Lizzie," Amy said. "Gordo may be tenacious, but he surely has given you up, especially since he saw _Shrek 2."_

"What about _Shrek 2?"_

"Oh, you know, when the fairy godmother says, 'If you truly love her, you will let her go.' Gordo has let you go, so there must be some other girl in his life."

"Well, Gordo, whoever it is, she is not worthy of you," Lizzie told him, solicitously.

"Somehow, Lizzie, I cannot believe that. And it doesn't make me feel any better about writing my speech."

"We'll help you, but you cannot say that life is meaningless in front of a crowd of people. We need something better, something that defines you, Gordo," Lizzie said.

They worked on the speech for three hours that night, even though Gordo had an AP test the following day, and was supposed to be doing some last minute studying.

The next day, before school, Lizzie and Amy had an altercation. The former claimed that Amy was being unsympathetic with her happiness that Sam was in love with Lizzie and not Amy. The latter charged Lizzie with a great desire for self-pity and an inability to understand how wonderful it feels when someone is _not _in love with you.

Amy then did something that was entirely uncharacteristic of her. She spent the day in the company of Kate Sanders, who told myriad malicious stories about Lizzie that caused Amy to laugh loudly. She pretended that she was interested in becoming a professional thespian, and put on a feigned, delighted expression when Kate discussed the art of histrionics.

Lizzie was dismayed by Amy's behavior, and wished she could take back the things she had said. But the language of a vile tongue can take many years to efface. She feared that her friendship with Amy was toasted, and that they would not be able to make it up before graduation.

When Lizzie got home, there was a surprise waiting for her.

"Lizzie," her mother said, meeting her in the atrium, "your father and I have adopted a girl."

"Out of the blue? Without telling me? Don't you think I have enough trouble on my hands, without having to look after a kid sister? Honestly, Mom, I don't think you and Dad ever think what effect the consequences of your actions will have on _me!"_

"Lizzie, I am your mother and I will not be addressed like that! Even if adopting Penelope was a mistake, it's too late now; the papers are signed and everything."

The teenager sauntered into the kitchen, with Mrs. McGuire hot on her trails. Lizzie made some coffee to calm her nerves, and after she had drunk a long swig, she asked sweetly, "So, where is the baby?"

"Who you callin' a baby?" asked a girl with a New York accent who had just walked in. She had violet eyes, brown hair, and she was sixteen.


	3. The Thorn in Lizzie's Side

**High School Farewell**

**Chapter Three**

"Mom, what is going on?"

Mrs. McGuire turned to the new girl. "Penelope, please leave so I can talk to your sister."

"Sure, sure," she said, going to the living room.

"Lizzie, I'm afraid I have a confession to make."

"Go ahead," her daughter said, eyes narrowing.

"You wouldn't be able to understand this—I don't think anybody else in the world would. But you see, I need a daughter here for one more year, before I can let go."

"And I mean nothing to you, I see."

"No, Lizzie, you got it all wrong! You mean so much to me, and that's precisely why I adopted Penelope. You're going off to college. Only Matt will remain when you're gone, and he's not enough to fulfill my motherly needs. But Penelope, she will serve well as a daughter."

"But why did you choose someone so close to my age? And I expect she'll be expected to attend my school."

"One more year is all I need, and yes, she will go to your school, as a junior. Will you oblige me to tell you her backstory?"

"Sure, why not?" Lizzie asked, although in truth she would rather avoid such niceties.

"Well, it goes like this. Penelope Freyer was about eleven when her mother died. At the time, her family was living in New York. Out of depression, her father moved with her to Salem, Oregon, where they lived peacefully for a couple of years. However, he began to get aggressive and delirious. At one time, he believed that they were in Salem, Massachusetts and that it was approximately 1692. He thought his daughter was a witch, and he beat her! Luckily, authorities caught him in the act, and she was put in the local orphanage at fourteen."

"That's a terrible story! How did you find her?"

"Well, trying to find high-school aged girls in orphanages on the Internet is not exactly a piece of cake. And I searched thoroughly and avidly; somehow I discovered Penelope, and knew she'd be perfect."

"Poor girl. I promise to be nice to her as a sister."

"That's my Lizzie!"

Lizzie sort of resented this last exclamation, for it made her feel like a baby. But she had a promise to uphold, and she was not one to renege.

"Hello, Penelope," she said, when she entered the living room.

"That sounds so formal. Please call me Penny."

"All right, Penny then. So, you're going to my school, huh?"

"I s'pose I am."

"You'll like it. It's very…different."

"Different, how?"

"It's a rumor city. Anything you do will be exaggerated, breathing, walking, talking—nothing escapes the rumor bucket."

"I don't think I'll like that."

"Yeah, well, you live and you learn. Oh, by the way, there's one nasty rumor going around that I'm a heart breaker. Don't pay any attention to it."

"You're a senior, right?"

"Yes, so?"

"You going to prom with someone?"

"Yeah, Ken Taper."

"Well, good luck. Prom is going to be the last wonderful night of your life. So I've heard."

Penelope's words struck Lizzie's heart to the quick. "The last wonderful night of your life." Never again would she be free, never again would she be a child. This would be the end of everything she had known.

Because Penelope was Lizzie's adopted sister, it was her job the next day to show her where everything was.

"This is the commons where we eat lunch."

"I don't like that name. It sounds like a place where hippies convene or something."

"There's the library Gordo visits every spare moment he has."

"I wonder if they have any Judy Blume novels."

"And this is Ms. Jennings room. She's your first period Chemistry teacher."

"Science. Gag me." Then she walked in.

Amy was still ignoring Lizzie. The latter hoped Penelope would replace her ex-friend, for if there was ever a time when she needed support, it was now.

Samuel Perton gave a report on envy that day, including the opinion of his that Aaron Burr had killed Alexander Hamilton because he knew the latter to be a better man.

"Oi, my dear Lizzie," Sam said, as she walked out of the classroom.

"What do _you_ want?"

"I hear there's been a new addition to your family."

"News travels fast. So, what of it?"

"I know how hard these things are to cope with. If you want to talk to me about it, I'd be glad to listen."

Lizzie was shocked. "But we're not even _friends!"_

"We could be, if you'd just open up. I'm not a prickly pear, you know."

"Sam, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but a lot of people wish that it had been you who committed suicide instead of Larry."

Lizzie went away, coldly, leaving Samuel's heart broken into millions of pieces, not due to what anyone else hoped, but because the way she had brought it up at that time, it looked as if Lizzie abhorred him.

He was not able to concentrate on his work the rest of the day, and he claimed to be ill on the one following.

It was only Gordo who sat with Lizzie at lunch, even though he had to do research on grilse and salmon.

"What's up, amiga?"

"The sky," Lizzie said, disconsolately.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I'll bet it's nothing. It is only when you are truly downcast that you use old jokes, like saying 'the sky,' when someone asks you 'What's up?' Cheer up; we're almost out of high school."

"Three more weeks."

"Yes, so short a time. So, why the long face?"

"Time's happiness runs amok."

"That's something Amy would say. And speaking of Amy, why isn't she here?"

"Who knows where the princess hides her treasures."

"Please, stop this Lizzie. Can't you speak like a rational human being?"

"If I could, I would find gold at the end of a rainbow."

"Let's not discuss Irish folklore. Rather, let's talk about problems."

"Problems, you say? Well, here it goes. Amy's hanging around with Kate Sanders; my mother adopted a girl because she felt sorry for her and my mother can't handle being daughter-less; and Samuel Perton's in love with me."

Gordo was all ready to try to console Lizzie, until he heard this last bit of information.

"Sam, in love?"

"Yes. We used to think he was infatuated with Amy—because he gave her roses every Monday—but it was all a ruse. It's me he's after, and he won't leave me alone."

"Why would he give Amy roses if he likes you?"

"Reverse psychology? I don't know how men think."

"You mean you don't know how Sam thinks. There's some doubt to his humanity."

This made Lizzie laugh.

"See? Doctor Gordo will fix all your problems. Now, what's this with Amy?"

"Sam is the one who broke our friendship." And she told him all about the flowers and her row with Amy.

"Now, tell me about this adopted sister of yours."

All the particulars of Penelope Freyer were related, as well as her mother's crazy need for a daughter.

"Wait, I think I've seen your sister. Ken Taper was flirting with her."

"_What?"_

"Yeah. He was talking about her hair, or something trivial like that."

"Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't pull a Larry Tudgman."

"Lizzie, don't say anything terrible as that! You're the greatest person—"

But he was cut off when the principal made an announcement over the PA system.

"Everybody, run to the nearest classrooms! There is an intruder in the school, and he is wielding a gun! We are doing our best to restrain him, but we will not be able to hold him much longer. Please go to safety!"

Gordo ran to the library, which was about the safest place in the entire school.

Lizzie and the rest dashed to the nearest classrooms they could find. As soon as twenty-five students entered a room, the door was locked, and people had to go to the next one. There was screaming and hollering and bellowing and jostling; it was every man for himself.

And then came the real terror, the screech, as everybody heard the gunman running in the halls, shouting, "I will find my daughter!"

He tried opening doors, but to no avail. The lights were off in each room, and he could not discern who was in them, though he could hear breathing.

And then, a girl stepped out of a bathroom, and three shots rang out. She toppled to the ground in a lifeless heap.

"Where is my Penelope?!" the man shouted.

Then some school security guards surrounded him, and he was carried off.

"It is now safe to leave your classrooms," the principal announced electronically. "Please go to your sixth period class."

There were some people gathered around the dead girl, but Lizzie did not bother to see who it was. She was too absorbed in her own problems to worry about anybody being dead.

When she got home, her mother had news for her.

"Lizzie, I know this will make you cry, but I have bad news."

"What is it?"

"Your friend, Amy, was shot today."

"No, not Amy!"

"Yes, and she's dead. Killed by no other than Penelope's father."

"Oh, Mom!" Lizzie wailed, rushing to hug Mrs. McGuire.

When she went upstairs, tears falling abundantly down her cheeks, she cursed all the Penelope Freyer's in the world and the problems they thrust upon others like herself.


	4. Tensions Rise

**High School Farewell**

**Chapter Four**

"We will now hold a moment of silence in honor of Amy Barklett," said the principal over the loudspeaker.

People bent their heads in pious fashion, and Sam appeared to be the most grieved.

"Thank you. The funeral will be held this Saturday at eight P.M. in West Cursor Abbey. This is a terrible time in our school's history; there have been no deaths for twenty years here, and suddenly this happens. Not to mention that Amy was just like you, an average girl, member of Student Council, and…" Thus followed an enumeration of her merits and accomplishments.

After class, Sam prevented Lizzie from leaving. "She was not just an average girl; our principal is a bastard! Amy is a girl who deserved to be praised, honored, elevated, and I will make sure she gets the utmost respect."

"What are you going to do? Dig up her grave?"

"Very funny, Lizzie. You know I loved her, but necrophilia is not one of my character traits."

"No, you never loved Amy. You were in love with me all along."

"Me? Samuel Jorsell Perton, in love with Heart-Breaker Lizzie? Yeah, right."

"That's what she believed, that you wrote that letter and signed Larry's name to it."

"Did my gifts of roses prove nothing? Amy Barklett, what is this potter's field a manic psychopath has condemned you to? And I will not forget, Heart-Breaker, that it was your adopted sister's father that murdered my beloved. You are now Perton Enemy Number One, and I suggest you be on your guard."

Then he stormed off, leaving Lizzie in a grumpy mood.

At lunchtime, Ethan was handing out wedding invitations. He gave one to Lizzie, saying, "I forgot until this morning, when they announced Amy's funeral. Can you believe it? A wedding and a funeral in the same day! Who would've imagined?"

Lizzie carried her tray over to an empty table, but her invitation fell out of her hands. She was about to stoop to pick it up, when Gordo rushed to do it before she got there.

"So, Ethan and Nichole are getting married, with just a few weeks left in the school year," Gordo said, giving Lizzie her invitation.

"Yes. What do you think they're up to, and not telling anybody till two days beforehand?"

"Probably trying to get printed as a married couple in the yearbook, of which I think the first printing will be processed next Tuesday, so they've made it just in time."

"Gordo, what are we going to do without Amy?" Lizzie said, began to cry, tears falling on her corn dog.

"To be honest, Lizzie, I don't know. I still don't have my valedictorian speech written, and---"

"Always the slacker, aren't you Gordo?" said a Hispanic girl.

"Gloria! Taken to eavesdropping, now?"

"Contrariwise, I was standing behind you, listening to your scintillating conversation. Lizzie could've warned you that I was there, but she's steeped into tears about that loser of a friend you had. Who needs friends? They just hold you back."

"Just because you've never had any, Gloria, doesn't mean you should relegate others for possessing them."

"You hear that Lizzie? You and Amy are merely possessions to Gordo here, and I'll bet you that it was he who wrote that letter and signed it with Tudgman's name."

"What?!?" moaned the girl, who was taken aback. "Gordo would never do anything like that."

"How can you be so sure? See, he has absconded," (for Gordo had run away), "he only cares for you, and I bet he's planning his own suicide, because he knows you and he will never be a couple."

"That's the absurdest thing I've ever heard!"

"Tsk, tsk. 'Most absurd,' Lizzie, not 'absurdest.' Do I have to teach you everything? But when Gordo is dead, you'll see that I was right."

The idea of a dead Gordo had never struck Lizzie before, but now it hit her imagination with such vivid colors. It was not unlikely. Perhaps Gloria was right; she was the smartest girl in school after all. But she shook her head a moment later—Samuel Perton was responsible for that letter. He was the one who could not live without her, as repulsive as that thought was.

Lizzie took her invitation home and showed it to her mother, who did not notice the date at first, but when it became apparent that it was that ensuing Saturday, she made a remark.

"You're not going."

"But Mom, this is Ethan we're talking about. Anybody who's anybody is going to be there, to see his marriage to Nichole."

"You will have to stay home, for it is Penelope Freyer's seventeenth birthday Saturday."

"I don't care about the little pipsqueak," Lizzie muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mom."

On Friday, Lizzie's eyes were more susceptible to what was going on around her, and when she turned a corner to go to Government class, she saw Ken Taper flirting with Penelope!

"What is going on?" she asked Ken, while Penelope darted away, laughingly.

"Lizzie!" he exclaimed, perspiration pouring down his forehead in turrets. "I was just talking to your sister."

"You were flirting with her, Mr. Don Juan."

"Everybody's doing it these days. Well, everyone who is not getting married, either in reality or in their mind."

"How do you mean?"

"All your ex-boyfriends and everybody else want to date your sister. There are only three men who won't say a word to her: Ethan, Gordo, and Sam. They're oddballs."

"But you're my prom date!"

"Well, your sister is hot. See you around, Lizzie."

This irritated her for two reasons. For one thing, she had been counting on Ken to be true to her; and for the other, she would not be able to prove that she was not a Heart-Breaker if Ken chose another girl over herself.

Naturally, Lizzie was melancholy when she went home, where she felt even more unhappy knowing that she'd have to celebrate Penelope's birthday—in honor of someone she barely knew and whom was posing a threat to her usual environment—and was forced to skip Ethan's wedding, which would mean deferring her official adieu to a parting which would not be as magical as it would be could it happen at that prestigious event.

She woke up feeling like staying in bed, but knew it would be unwise to remain there. So she went down to the kitchen, where Mrs. McGuire was making Penelope's favorite breakfast—Johnny cakes with sap-free maple syrup and boiled eggs, which made Lizzie gag.

They then played games, until one o' clock, when Mr. McGuire believed it was time to show Penelope what they had bought her. It was a red beetle, used but as good as ever.

Lizzie's mouth fell agape. "You didn't buy me a car for my seventeenth birthday!"

"Well, we like Penelope better than you," her mother said. "She deserves it."

This made Lizzie extremely bitter, and she went to her room to pour out a leaky faucet. Was she to be disowned just because she was heading for college, and Penelope a heroine of the family? Or was this all some subtle nightmare?

She was left alone for several hours, during which time more tears than she ever knew a person could be a receptacle of dropped from her eyes. At six-thirty, her father knocked on her door, and told her it was time to get ready for Amy's funeral.

Amy! Oh, why had she been so selfish, when her dear friend was soon to be six feet under? This was a tragedy. Never would she see those glistening cheeks again, that merry, placid life that Amy led. She was so full of everything; a radiant beacon shone upon her. If she could muster up the courage, she would have to give Amy a eulogy.

When she came down, Mrs. McGuire told her that she had to ride in Penelope's car, and due to problems along en route—including gas trouble and other necessities—the family was twelve minutes late.

Easily the most conspicuous person in the chapel was Samuel Perton, who was wearing baggy jeans and bent in a prayerful fashion. It almost seemed as if his God had died, and another Nietzche stood before them all. He worshipped the girl—of that no one could doubt. It was a pitiful sight; some fellow classmates made glances at each other that seemed to say, "If he loved her so much, why doesn't he commit suicide?"

Myriad speeches were given on Amy's merits, but Lizzie felt unable to go squawking in front of an audience to extol her friend. She felt ashamed of this dearth of courage. However, she knew Amy would've understood.

The people went before the casket in a long queue to view the princess for the last time. For a princess she was, royal in happiness and in friendship. When it was Lizzie's turn, she could not help but say, "I'm sorry," very softly. Then she turned to go.

In Penelope's car again, she found the brio to shout, "I hate you!"

"What've I done?"

"What've you done? You stole my boyfriend and my family, and it is because of you that Amy is dead! You are the originator of all evil, and I wish you a one-way trip to hell."


	5. Light Shines Through the Darkness

**High School Farewell**

**Chapter Five**

Light Shines Through the Darkness

Over the course of the ensuing fortnight, Lizzie avoided Penelope as much as she could, although she was required to ride with her to school every day.

Prom was drawing ever nearer. There were bulletins everywhere announcing the engagement: where it would be and at what time. Tickets would be sixty dollars, an exorbitant sum, but Lizzie had saved up her babysitting money.

She was still hoping that Ken Taper would be her date, not that she liked him. However, there was a lack of viable candidates, and he _had_ asked her. The thing that brought her worry was his and everybody else's predilection for Penelope.

One day she saw Ken and Penelope holding hands, a very bad sign. They parted before he entered Mr. Bellardime's German class, and Lizzie accosted him. "Ken, you promised to go with me!"

"Oh, Lizzie," he said, sweat pouring down his brow, "things change."

"Yes, but not on such short notice!"

"Don't look at me; I'm not Father Time."

"Yeah, you're more like General Be-tray-us," she said, calling him a nickname given to a general in Iraq by liberals that Gordo had told her about.

"Whatever. I'm taking Penelope and that is final. Find yourself another date—there must be a queue of people waiting to go with Heart-Breaker Lizzie."

Lizzie slapped him, venting all her anger at Penelope on this boy. Then she ran off before Mr. Bellardime could catch her.

There was one boy whom Lizzie sort of had an interest in, Mike Stoggins. He had a deep bass voice and loved to flatter any woman who would listen to him. However, ever since a rumor had started that he had gonorrhea, no one girl would go near him. Lizzie did not believe in this rumor. To her it seemed he was just a victim of circumstance.

When Lizzie mustered up the courage necessary to speak to Mike, she found him rummaging through his locker, looking for his lucky pen. Mike believed in myriad superstitions. He always eschewed ladders and black cats and even mirrors. It was a wonder he looked so good if he rarely checked up on his reflection. Then again, maybe he used a clear river for that, in which case a mirror would be an extravagance.

"Hello, Mike," Lizzie said as bravely as possible.

"Lizzie! My, you look swell today."

"Thank you," she said, blushing and glancing down at her pink blouse. Then she raised her head again. "Do you have a date for the prom?"

"Well, I was thinking of asking your foster sister, Penelope, but apparently she's taken," he said, frowning.

"It appears so."

"And I also had a semi-interest in Amy. It's too bad she's gone."

Lizzie wanted to say, "I didn't see you at the funeral!" But she realized this would make him hate her and ruin her changes of attending the prom with him.

"Would you go with me?" she managed to ask.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'd love to, but something suddenly came up," he said, copying a famous phrase from "The Brady Bunch."

He found his lucky pencil and scampered off, though once looking back at her in fear.

_What have I done to deserve this? _Lizzie wondered. _No Ken, no Mike, no Gordo….why did I think of Gordo? I'm not attracted to him or anything. He was never my real boyfriend; I don't know why Samuel Perton mentioned him on that terrible day I discovered Tudgman's letter. Larry Tudgman would've gone to the prom with me without hesitation. There's no doubt of that, but…_

"Lizzie!"

The familiar voice of her one friend remaining in this world filled Lizzie with joy. Gordo would never let her down; he was always there for her, and always would be.

"Lizzie, Mike didn't accept your invitation to the prom, did he?"

"No," she said, hurt that Gordo was mentioning that now. She almost felt like crying.

"Good. I think we should go together."

"Us? As a couple? But..."

"Don't object, Lizzie. This is the chance of a lifetime, when David Gordon and Lizzie McGuire can be together for the last time before they graduate from high school and go to separate colleges and forget each other."

"But I'd never forget you, Gordo."

"You won't know that till the time comes, and by then it'll be too late. Look, Lizzie, when we walk out that door with our graduation gown on, cap in hand, we will be _changed. _Whether for the better or for worse, I can't conjecture. All I can say is that our childhood is ending. And there's no one I'd rather share the last moment with, than you."

"Oh, Gordo, that's so sweet," she said.

In an act of gallantry, he raised her right hand and kissed it, as if she were the Queen of England and he merely a royal subject.

Now that the problem of having a date was solved, Lizzie had other preparations to make, such as the dress she was going to wear, shoes, and jewelry, not to mention perfume and cosmetics. Not expecting her mother to much help on this matter, she appealed to Gordo's grandmother, for whom dances were an obsession. Lizzie remembered the first time she had met Gordo's grandmother. The old lady had not made a good impression on her then, but later on she got used to her.

The color of Lizzie's dress was jade-green. Gordo's grandmother thought it went well with her eyes. Many other appurtenances and complements adorned her hair, ears, and dress itself. She would not be the envy of the other girls, but that didn't matter. This was the end of her childhood, an important time in her life, and she _would _enjoy it at all costs.

"You be nice to Gordo, you hear? Or I'll have to cane you," his grandmother admonished, facetiously.

Finally the blessed night came. But Mrs. McGuire forbade Lizzie from riding with Gordo or Penelope from riding with Ken Taper. They had to go together, or not at all.

"But Mother, you've known Gordo for many years now," Lizzie protested. "Why mistrust him all of a sudden?"

"You are my child and it is not your position to question, Lizzie. Just obey my rules."

"Soon I'll be on my own," Lizzie muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mother."

The car ride was very jerky, and at one point Penelope pretended to lose her way.

"Come on. You've driven past this hotel a dozen times on your way to the Galleria," Lizzie said.

"Oh, it's on the way there, isn't it?" Penelope revved up the engine and went above the speed limit, killing a squirrel that dashed out in front of the car.

"What a pain you can be sometimes, Penny!" Lizzie shouted, as she often did nowadays in times of frustration.

Penelope slammed on the breaks and ordered Lizzie to get out.

"But it's just five blocks from the hotel," Lizzie pointed out.

"I don't care. GET OUT!"

Lizzie unbuckled and hopped out, shutting the door behind her with such force that it almost detached from the car. Then she walked to the hotel. When she was about to turn the last block, a jalopy drove past and flung mud onto the hem of her dress. She had little heart to advance forward, but thoughts of her fleeting childhood propelled her to do so.

She entered the hotel and was directed to the dancing area, where she would be confined until 11:00 p.m. Nobody could leave except to go to the bathroom, which was across the hall.

It took her five minutes to find Gordo. He was wearing a red tuxedo, because red and green are complementary hues on the color wheel. His grandmother wanted people to feel emotions when they stared at Lizzie and Gordo, for this could be one of the best nights of their lives.

They danced a couple, then decided to sit out the third, when a familiar face approached them.

"Miranda?"

"Lizzie! I haven't seen you in three years!"

The two friends embraced. "What are you doing here?" Lizzie asked.

"Oh, well I graduated from Hugo Juaverez Escuela Segunda three weeks ago, and so my grandmother agreed to send me here just in time for your prom! And of course, I'll be at your graduation too."

"It seems that good things do sometimes come when you've lost hope," Lizzie said.

"Has something happened?" Miranda asked, concerned.

"Lizzie's got a new sister, Miranda," Gordo said.

"Congratulations!" Miranda said, slapping Lizzie on the back.

"Not that kind of sister. She's adopted, and she's seventeen—had a birthday last Saturday. I missed Ethan's wedding because of it."

"Ethan got married? To whom, Kate Sanders?"

"No, to a girl named Nichole Washington. You've never met her."

"Man, so much has happened since I've been away. Where's that other girl you told me about—Amy, was it?"

"She's dead," Gordo said, sadness running through his voice. "Penelope's father killed her."

"Who's Penelope?"

"Lizzie's sister."

"But if she was adopted, how can she have a father?"

Gordo and Lizzie took turns explaining to Miranda their current situation and Lizzie's fury that her mother loved Penny more than her. Sometimes Miranda found what they said to be fantastical and it took a while to convince her that everything they uttered was fact.

From across the room, someone was watching the trio avidly. A dark form approached them, grabbing Lizzie's arm. She shrieked, then saw it was just Samuel Perton.

"What do you want?" she asked him.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" he said, eyeing Miranda.

"Amy's gone now, Sam. Can't you leave us alone?"

"I will leave you alone when another Three Mile Island incident occurs. I must know who that girl is."

Miranda stepped forward herself. "I'm Miranda," she said.

"You already knew Lizzie and Gordo before?"

"We went to middle school together, and ninth grade."

"Ah, before I met them. So, they adopted Amy to replace you, and now you've come to demand it back."

"You're not Sherlock," Gordo said. "Leave my friends alone."

Samuel turned to Gordo. "Gloria suspects that you wrote that letter and forged Tudgman's name. And you have the temerity to ask me to back off Miss Miranda here?"

"Gordo would never have written that letter!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"Whatever. Believe what you want to, Lizzie. Miranda, may I have this dance?" he said, as music was starting.

"Why, sure," she said, merrily.

Lizzie couldn't believe her ears, or her eyes. Miranda and Samuel left looking as if they had known each other for a long time and were an item.

"Can you believe she just went with him like that?" Lizzie inquired.

"I think we should've told her about Larry's suicide before that bug came over. I'm going to go get a glass of punch. Wait here."

Lizzie watched Gordo head for the refreshment table. Gloria appeared out of nowhere and began accosting him. Lizzie thought Gordo might be awhile and there would be plenty of time to find her way back here. She sauntered over to the doors of the dancing room, passing Mike Stoggins who had Kate in his arms. Big surprise.

For a few moments, she idly observed the other couples, including Penelope and Ken. They seemed to be two of the happier members, as if they had been through something more intimate than they were letting on.

Suddenly, Lizzie felt hands grab her from behind. Before she could scream, she found a sock in her mouth. Strong arms pulled her outside, from which she would not be able to reenter. She was stuffed into the back-seat of a Ferrari, and when she attempted to get out, she found the door locked. The man who had kidnapped her got in the driver's seat and started the car. Then he turned around.

"My name is Marcus Freyer. I'm Penelope's father, and I am holding you for ransom. Until your parents agree to deliver my daughter to my hands, I will hold you in custody. But don't worry—a life of luxury is ahead for you."

Lizzie knew that her mother would never give up Penny for her. All was lost.


End file.
